A Time Apart
by Starr Rose
Summary: With Bellamy stuck with the survivors of the Ark, and Clarke stuck with the mountain men, the only thing left for them to do is remember and wish for their fellow leader.
1. Chapter 1

He almost doesn't see it. The way her eyes dance across the 100 like they're her children. Well, the 99. She doesn't see herself as fragile, and he doesn't think she ever even looks at him. But one day, after the biggest fight they've had, a fight that almost blew the half built wall over, he sees it. She's so angry that those blue eyes are comically large and her lips are pursed so tight he's sure they're going to draw in on themselves and swallow her whole. He hopes they'll swallow her whole. It would be a moment of silence if they did. But, while he's shouting at her about how idiotic it is to go wandering around on the outside of the wall without a god damn escort, he sees those comically huge blue eyes dance away from his and sweep across the crowd gathered round them.

She said through gritted teeth, "We should take this out of the middle of the camp, Bellamy."

"Why, Princess? Afraid to let people see you get mad?" He taunted, looking around at his-their people. "Afraid to shake off your composure."

"No," she hissed, "I'm afraid I'll kill you in front of this group and scare them worse than they already are."

"You wouldn't dare try anything."

She raised her hand and jabbed him in the chest with her freakishly sharp pointer finger. She spat out two words, accentuating them with a hard stab to his chest. "Bet. Me."

"Fine then, princess," he snarled. He bent forward and Clarke stared in surprise in the second it took him to shove his shoulder into her stomach and rise again, throwing her over his shoulder. His arm looped around the backs of her thighs, just above her knees and he cried out, "I'm going to give the princess a spanking. Get back to work!"

Clarke hit his back as hard as she could while he carried her away from the prying eyes of the other 100. By the time he got her to his tent, he was sure he even had bite marks up and down the flesh. He put her on her feet and growled, "Lucky Spacewalker wasn't out there for that. I can't deal with two belligerent idiots right now."

"You're the one being an idiot! I was barely outside the wall!"

"It's still outside the wall! Do you want to die? Because, as easy as it would be for me to accept, we kind of need the healer around."

"And we definitely need to watch our fighting around them. We're their leaders, and they are kids!"

"You're barely older than them!"

"I was the closest to eighteen when we were sent down here! We've been down here, what, two weeks? Two and a half? Do you know what that means? In a week and a half, I'll be eighteen, Bellamy. So shove that up your ass!"

He was taken aback, both by the reminder that she was nearly his equal in age, and by the curse that slid past her lips. He stared down at her for a second and then let his face settle into its usual smirk. "Fine, princess. No more leaving the gates without an escort, and we won't fight in front of the children anymore."

"Good." She nodded curtly, spun on her heel, and stomped away, leaving Bellamy alone in her tent.

_ He'd kill to have her there with him. Her and all of their "children." He'd always pretended not to notice that the rest of the 100 (except Octavia and Finn) called them "mom and dad." Not because it bothered him, but because it was easier to seem intimidating if the rest of them didn't know that he liked being the head of the family. One of the heads of the family. Because if he thought Clarke wasn't just as equal as he was, he was a damn fool. _

_ He looked down at the handcuffs so tight on his wrist that they would leave more marks than the wristbands on the 100 when they'd first landed. He needed her there with him, not out there with God knows what. He needed her to tell Kane that he wasn't a bad guy. He needed her to tell Kane that Murphy deserved to get his ass kicked, that Murphy deserved much worse than a solid ass kicking. He just needed her. _

_ "Bellamy," Finn's voice was a whisper through the canvas blocking the door. They didn't even bother assigning him a guard. They were too busy running around like headless chickens to stop and realize they had 4 of the 100, a stowaway criminal, and a love stricken rebel that had survived the ground for months and could very easily give them advice. But they weren't looking to Murphy, Bellamy, Finn, or the two kids in the woods, and he doubted Raven could answer very many questions while she was in her condition. _

_ "What, Finn?" Bellamy's voice rarely rose above growl and talking to Spacewalker didn't entice him into a reasonable volume. _

_ "Do you think she's dead?" _

_ The question froze the blood in Bellamy's veins. There didn't have to be an explanation of who "she" was. Finn wouldn't ask about Octavia. Finn wouldn't care about his sister's life. It was only Clarke that would do that, and it was only Clarke that Finn was asking about. _

_ "I think she's too damn stubborn to die," Bellamy bit out, trying to ignore the pain that bloomed heavy and sharp in his chest. _


	2. Chapter 2

Her eighteenth birthday started with some idiot kid falling off the top of the shuttle where he was trying to prove how brave he was, and breaking his arm upon impact with the ground. She woke up to screams outside of the drop ship. Sharp, shrieks that filled her with unbridled panic. Clarke jumped out of the furs given to her as a gift from the co-leader and yanked her pants on, tearing the rip in the knee just a little bit more than it had been the day before. But she didn't have time to think about that before she was rushing out the door to save the kid that Bellamy was standing over, rolling his muddy brown eyes. The first thing Bellamy said to her was, "I ought to tell you not to treat him at all. The fucking idiot did this on his own."

"He's going to be treated, the same as everybody else," Clarke replied just as harshly. "Now help me get him into the drop ship. I need you to hold him still while I reset the break."

Bellamy reached down and grabbed the boy's uninjured yard and yanked him to a standing position, ignoring the gasp as pain radiated down the kid's body. She growled, "Bellamy, would you mind being a little more careful!? He just fell 15 feet to the ground."

"Because of his own stupidity," Bellamy said plainly. "Now come on. We can get him patched up and then we can go gather some more of your damn herbs you've been nagging me about all week."

She glared at him but they'd agreed not to argue in front of the 100 anymore, and it was an agreement they'd kept. She followed him into the drop ship, making sure he wasn't going to dump the boy on the table and leave. Bellamy had changed, he'd softened, been molded during their time on the ground. Or maybe he'd always been soft and he was just a pro at faking it.

Clarke busied herself with preparing the splints cut from the thinner pieces of the trees being used to build the wall. The wall would protect them, and heal them. She smiled as she picked through the strips of fabric for ones that didn't have to be used for cuts. It was only right that their earth home was giving something back to them.

"Okay…what's your name, kiddo?" Clarke's voice was soft and reassuring and the boy looked up at her with a mixture of confusion and hope that it wasn't as bad as it felt. Bellamy tried to hide his smile with a grimace.

"M…Max," he stuttered. "Is this going to hurt?"

"Just a little, Max. Let go of that arm and let me see if I was right in what I was thinking earlier." Clarke focused her attention on the arm Max was slowly releasing, but jerked her eyes up to Bellamy quickly and nodded. He took his spot behind Max and Clarke kept talking. "Yep. That bump there is where your bone is sticking out a little. Here. Chew on this."

Clarke handed him the anesthetic herb they'd found by accident when Monty had numbed half his body. As soon as Max started chewing, Clarke took his arm gently and began inspecting it carefully, running her fingers over the skin lightly, then harder and harder until she was sure Max couldn't feel it on the surface. Then, without raising her eyes to Bellamy's, she nodded and Bellamy grabbed Max's shoulders while Clarke shoved the bone back in place, wincing at the howl that came from the boy. She worked the splint quickly, ordering Bellamy to "hold this in place," "keep your hand here," and "for god's sake, Bellamy, stop letting him move!" She knew she was trying his patience, and she knew he'd listen to her as well.

"Okay, Max. You're going to be splinted up for the next few weeks. Go lay down for a while, okay? Get some rest. And no more stupid stunts," Clarke scolded.

"If I catch you doing something like that again to impress girls, you're on half rations for two weeks!" Bellamy tacked onto the end, playing right into the 'mom and dad' scene the rest of the 100 had going.

Max nodded and jumped down off the table to stagger off, leaving Clarke and Bellamy glaring at each other. As soon as she was sure Max was out of earshot, she growled, "Do you have to be so hard on him?"

"We need everybody we can to defend the camp and he's doing stupid shit to impress girls."

"Like you've never done stupid shit to impress girls," Clarke snorted. "I'm pretty sure you've got the swagger perfected."

"Been watching me, princess? I've never let royalty into my bed, but I could be convinced." Bellamy smirked and quirked one eyebrow, challenging her to back down.

"You'd have to wash those sheets a thousand times before I'd slide beneath them," she hissed.

"I'll get to washing then, Princess. For now, come on. You're running low on all the shit you blow away whenever you're treating scratches."

She rolled her eyes but followed him out of the drop ship and out of the camp, letting him pause to grab his rifle and toss her one of the knives. She followed him out into the woods and into the silent peace of the woods. Bellamy slowed down to walk beside her and she pretended not to notice him watching her while she looked at the trees and listened to the birds among them. When they reached the clearing where she gathered the healing plants, there was already a bag sitting in the middle of the clearing, stuffed full. Clarke turned to stare at Bellamy and caught his steady smirk.

"Happy birthday, Princess," Bellamy smiled.

"For my birthday, you gathered herbs, the thing we all needed anyway?" Clarke refused to be impressed.

Bellamy's smirk faded into a sneer and she was almost sorry to see it go, but he continued anyway, "No, for your birthday I came out here at the ass crack of dawn to gather the damn herbs you needed so you would have an excuse to sneak away to the hot springs I found and so that you'd have somebody guarding your back while you took a bath. I thought you'd want one since you smell like Monty's ass crack."

"Oh." Clarke could feel the blood rushing to her face the instant Bellamy's lips closed around the last word. "Well. Thank you."

"There's some gratitude, princess. Come on. It's up this way."

Clarke could see the smirk on his face when he turned and started leading her away. She scooped up the bag of herbs and carried it for a few minutes before Bellamy glanced back and noticed what she was doing. He gave an exaggerated sigh and slowed down so he could snag it off of her shoulder and slip it onto his own. They walked side by side to the hot springs and Bellamy dropped the bag on the ground and nodded at the water in front of them expectantly. To which Clarke just stared at him pointedly.

"We don't have all day, princess. Even on your birthday, you only get an hour or two away from camp," Bellamy prodded her.

"Well turn around then!" she replied.

"Oh. It's not like you have anything I haven't seen." But he did turn around.

"The parts may be the same, but the fact is that they are mine," Clarke grumbled, even as she kicked off her shoes and took off her shirt. "And you haven't seen mine."

"Was that an invitation, princess?" Bellamy scoffed.

"Try anything and I'll be carrying your head back in my bag of herbs, Bellamy Augustine Blake," Clarke warned.

"I'm going to kill Octavia."

Clarke finished wriggling out of her clothes and rushed forward into the heated water, sighing at the warmth and the feeling of being cleaned. After a moment in the water, she was even able to pretend Bellamy wasn't there and float on her back, still wary of things moving beneath the water. Everybody else seemed to forget the thing that took a chunk out of Octavia's leg, but Clarke could never forget the giant gar. The thought of it made her shiver and she moved a little closer to the bank.

"Getting out already, princess? Tell me I didn't spend an hour picking flowers just so you could swim for five minutes," Bellamy called over his shoulder.

"I'm just making sure there's nothing in here with me," she growled, glaring daggers at his back.

"Good call. Just because you're the princess, doesn't mean I'm going to be your knight in shining armor. Saving your ass one time was more than enough."

"I remember saving yours too, asshole," Clarke snipes back, but she still smiles because she knows Bellamy wouldn't let her die. As much as she's a pain his ass, he needs her around, which is why she thinks he lets her rest for half an hour before he calls out again, "Are you even washing any dirt off of you or are you just sitting there? I used to tell Octavia that water doesn't push off dirt. You have to work at it a little."

"I thought this was **my **birthday present, Bellamy," Clarke retorted, finally pulling herself out of the floating position and starting to scrub away at the dirt that still lingered on her arms. She couldn't tell how much of it was the blood of all the kids who'd crossed her "office" floor.

"Can't have you getting used to the high life. Next thing we know, you'll be demanding extra rations and telling us we can't breathe your oxygen. Fine line, princess." But she could hear the smirk in his voice, so she let it go, knowing that Bellamy, for the first time since she'd met him, had done something nice for somebody other than Octavia.

"I'll start with you," she teased. "I'm taking your rations and there will be no more breathing within five feet of me."

"Well damn, I thought I'd finally be able to after you washed the stench off yourself."

For that, she flicked water at him and he cussed a stepped forward a few feet to get out of the range. They walked back to the camp closer to each other, her carrying the bag of herbs that time.

_ The bed was too soft for Clarke's liking. She knew Bellamy would have laughed at it, called her a princess, and asked her when they were getting out of there. He would have tugged at her hair on the way out of the shower and asked her if the stay was to her liking. He would have sneered at the President when he told them not to wander around. He would have whipped the rest of the 48 into shape and out the doors, because he knew it was better to live free than to live back on the Ark. But Bellamy wasn't there. _

_ "You're doing that thing with your face again." Miller had been Bellamy's second. She didn't know when that had faded. When Miller had gotten so used to the living that he'd given up. How long was she stuck in quarantine when the rest of her people were in surgery, or up wandering around. _

_ "Thinking about what Bellamy would be doing right now," she admitted. _

_ "He'd be ruling this place," Miller answered honestly. "They'd never let Bellamy stay. They'd never let Bellamy __**in.**__" _

_ Clarke chuckled, knowing it was the truth. The rebel leader of the pack wouldn't have survived a minute in the mountain. She could see him now, pacing like a caged tiger. No, a panther. With his dark hair and dark eyes, he was the beast. She'd seen a video once of a freshly caught tiger in a cage. It paced back and forth, roaring at everyone who could hear and swiping its massive paw between the bars. She could see Bellamy, reaching out to swat anybody who got near him. He'd have never survived quarantine. _

_ They said he didn't even survive the Grounder fight. That they hadn't found him. They hadn't had time to sort through the bodies. Finn and Raven and Bellamy were just gone. But that couldn't be true. Raven was weak, but she could have made it. Finn wasn't suited for the fighting, but he could have been out of the blast zone. And Bellamy, Bellamy would never have gone down like that. _

_ "I don't think Bellamy's ever asked anyone for permission a day in his life," Clarke laughed, the first laugh since they'd caged her. But Miller's face grew stony and suspicious. _

_ "Don't talk about them like they're alive here," he warned her. "You don't know what they'll do to an ungrateful guest. You're going to get us all sent back out there." _

_ Clarke stared at him, the laugh falling off of her lips. She said solemnly, "Whether I'm ungrateful or not, whether they send me back out there or not, Bellamy Blake, Finn Collins, and Raven Reyes are not dead." _

_ "Yeah, and you're not delusional." Miller walked away. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, everybody! I usually do updates on Fridays, but I don't know how long I plan to continue this. I'm going to try to write one of these for each of the new episodes, but I don't want to make any promises. So, for now, here's Bellamy's turn! **

"Hey, stupid, wake up." Clarke's boots were muddy. They were always muddy but that never bothered him until he cracked his eyes open and looked down to see them leaving footprints on the floor of his tent.

"Why the hell are you wearing those in my tent?" Bellamy growled.

"Because it's cold outside and I am going to go hiking today to the bunker to scavenge any leftover supplies."

"And…?" Bellamy growled, looking up through the canvas of the tent and taking note of the fact that it was still dark outside.

"And you're supposed to come with me, you complete ass." Clarke reached over and poked him through the blankets, right in the center of his back.

"Don't you think there's a damn good reason I take my boots off outside the tent?" He continued on his fixation with boots.

"Because you're the one who's actually the princess?" Clarke guessed.

"Because I don't want whatever shit is on your boots on my floor." Bellamy finally opened his eyes all the way and glared up at Clarke, who was standing with her hip jutted out and her arms crossed over her chest. The usual "Do what I'm telling you or there will be Hell to pay" look painted across her face.

"Oh my god, Bellamy, I live in the drop ship! If I can deal with that, you can deal with this."

"Exactly! You live in the drop ship," Bellamy mimicked. "I know how much blood is on the floor in there. Now, not only is there dirt and probably shit on the floor, there's blood. Thank you, princess."

"Fine!" Clarke bent over and unlaced her boots quickly, pulling her feet out of them and throwing them towards the flap. She said victoriously, "There! Now get up out of bed and come on! We have stuff to do today! Miller and Monroe are already up and working. You should be too. Let's go!"

"Well, princess," Bellamy smirked, knowing just how to make her regret her shouting, "I'd love to just jump up out of this bed and make you turn as red as the blood on your boots, but I don't wear as many clothes to bed as you do. So I'd get out of here before you get that eyeful I see you always thinking about."

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish grasping for something to bite onto. A comeback, a denial, a retort. Anything. But it was clear that she couldn't find the words and Bellamy laughed smugly. Finally, she spun on her heel and started towards the flap. He called to her retreating back, "Don't forget your boots, princess!"

_ There was only dirt where they had him. It was disgusting, and he wasn't allowed to complain. Murphy was zip tied a little ways away from him and Bellamy wanted to break the tie, wander over, and tear him apart. Mix the blood in with the dirt, make it look like the floor of Clarke's "doctor's office." He gritted his teeth and tightened his hands together, knowing they wouldn't let him out if he kept lunging at Murphy every time they put the killer near him. _

_ He squeezed his eyes shut and thought of things that didn't make him want to tear Murphy into shreds. The way Octavia looked the first time he ever brought a book to the room to teach her how to read. The way she laughed when he made up stories about dragons living in the air vents, and that's why it was sometimes hotter than normal in the arc. The way Clarke looked when she was thanking him for his birthday present. The way Octavia and Clarke ran the camp and the 100. _

_ It wasn't working. The thoughts of the two of them together, Clarke and Octavia, only made it worse. _

_ "Come on, Bellamy." He opened my eyes to the Spacewalker cutting through the tie on his wrists and he couldn't hide the grin. We were leaving. _


	4. Chapter 4

"Clarke, get up! We've got to…" Bellamy froze in the doorway of her tent. She was sprawled across the bed with the blankets barely covering the bare skin glowing in the sunlight. A girl had once whispered into his skin that he glowed in the moonlight and it fitted that Clarke would glow in the sun. He could tell that she was naked beneath the blankets, and they twisted in ways that hid her most intimate areas from him. The blanket bared her back, scarred and tinged pink by the sun. It left her shoulders clear. They were tense and tight where her arms were folded underneath her face. Her mane of golden hair hid her face.

The blanket twisted from beneath her at her hips and was draped over her ass, hiding it from view. It covered from just above her tailbone, to mid-thigh. Then, it slipped back under her, between her legs and came up to twine down her left leg, ending at her ankle. Bellamy stared for a second, wondering how she managed to always get up out of bed and dressed whenever somebody shouted for her. He almost didn't want to wake her up. The night before had been rough. Some of the kids had eaten Jobi Nuts again and had hallucinated that Grounders were storming the camp. Luckily, Finn, Clarke, Raven, and himself had gotten them rounded up and into the drop ship before they could do too much harm.

But the leaders had responsibilities and things to attend to. Bellamy leaned up and grabbed her ankle, pulling on it firmly while he said, "Clarke, wake up."

She grunted and rolled in bed, sitting up and dragging blankets with her. Her golden hair whirled around her face and her bruised knuckles clutched tight to her chest. Her sleep heavy eyes settled on Bellamy and she shook her head to wake up while the words fell heavy from her mouth, "What's going on?"

Bellamy's eyes settled around the ring of purple around her left eye. The purple highlighted the stormy blue. Clarke followed his eyes and raised her fingertips to the bruise. He ground out, "Who?"

"I don't know, Bellamy," she sighed. "And it doesn't matter. How many of them are dehydrated? How many of them have cuts?"

"A few. Are you ready for this, princess?"

"Are either of us ever ready? How many cuts do you have, Bellamy?" She opened her hand and gestured towards the bed, sleep still clearly clouding her mind.

"Not enough for me to come over there while you're naked, princess," Bellamy chuckled, letting his eyes travel leeringly from her hair to her ankles.

"Bellamy, don't pretend you haven't had every damn girl in this camp in your bed," Clarke sighed, still keeping the blanket tight to her chest though.

"Every girl except you, princess. Get dressed. I'm going to get food."

Bellamy slipped back out of her tent and paused for a minute so he could collect himself before he stomped over to the fire, shouting at everybody to get to work. Nobody questioned him, but, when Clarke came out of her tent with her hair pulled up high, showing the extent of the bruising on her neck and around her eye, nobody questioned why he was in a bad mood.

She walked past him at the fire and patted his back comfortingly before she headed towards the drop ship, telling him that he wasn't supposed to shout and scream. That he was supposed to be more like the golden princess than the Rebel King.

_ Watching Finn walk the path that he'd crossed was scarier seeing it from the outside. He knew that he was a monster, but Spacewalker hadn't been. He'd been an asshole. He'd been an idiot when it came to Clarke and Raven, and nobody trusted his intentions. But Finn wasn't a bad guy. He was lost and confused and disoriented, but he was the one who begged them not to torture the Grounder. He was the one who bet everything on a peace treaty. Finn was the lover, not the fighter, but there he was putting a bullet in the head of a Grounder who had to have known it was coming. _

_ Bellamy wasn't sure what was worse about the situation. That Murphy and Finn were working together, or that he had no control in any of it. He wished for Clarke. She wouldn't have wanted that. She wouldn't have wanted to see that Grounder shot in the head. She wouldn't have even wanted them to torture him. She would have talked to him, coerced him, made it so that they could escape from that bunker with their humanity intact. Bellamy wasn't sure what he would have done in the situation. He didn't know what the answer was or how to fix everything, but he could hear Clarke screaming in his head, "You don't have to do this. You can stop them." _

_ Except he couldn't stop anything now. He couldn't stop his sister from being gone. He couldn't stop his people from being taken. And he couldn't stop the Spacewalker from taking the same path that he'd tried to take before Clarke stepped in and made him get his shit together. _

The night blanketed the woods and spread across the graves. Clarke wondered if the dead were warm, wherever they were. Kane's mother preached the idea that the dead met on Earth, but Clarke didn't know if she wanted the dead on the Ground. It wasn't like the fairy tales. Maybe if there was a peaceful place on Earth, the dead could go there. A place away from the acid fog and Reavers and Grounders. She'd always heard that the West Coast was peaceful before the fallout. The people had rioted, but only for human rights and to fix the wrongs that were given to them. She hoped Wells, and Charlotte, and Roma, and her father, and Bellamy's mother were all there. Even if Charlotte did kill Wells, she thought he'd take care of her anyway. He'd understand that the little girl was scared and misunderstood some bad advice. But, when Bellamy made it to the West Coast, Wells was going to punch him in the face.

She could already see Bellamy looking around in wonder, amazed at the people and the sights, and then her big best friend walking over to punch him in the jaw. They'd always said that the dead were at peace. They never said the dead were peaceful. She giggled.

"Outside the wall without a gun **and **you're giggling, princess?" Bellamy's voice sounded behind her. "Did you eat some Jobi nuts and lose your damn mind?"

"I'm thinking about Wells punching you in the face when we get to the other side," Clarke laughed. "He's going to be so mad."

"I could take him in life; I'm pretty sure it will be the same in death." Bellamy slung his gun across his shoulder and sat beside her. "I think I have to let him get one in though. He owes me."

"I don't think they'll be mad at us though," Clarke said thoughtfully. "Wells would definitely hit you, but I think he'd be grateful too. You've kept me alive."

Bellamy snorted, "I've wanted to kill you half the time."

"But you haven't." She leaned against him to bump him with her shoulder.

"Yet," Bellamy added. "We'll see how it goes when we get to the sea. It'll be a lot easier to drown you in the sea, you know. Everybody will be too busy to notice, I can blame it on the fact that you can't swim…"

Clarke smacked his thigh and he elbowed her gently. They fell silent gain, the two leaders studying the graves they'd be leaving behind at first light. It was Bellamy who spoke again and Clarke wasn't surprised. He'd been a lot more willing to speak since everything. Since the bunker, since Lincoln, since the bridge, since Murphy. "Wells wouldn't hate me, and Charlotte wouldn't hate you."

"When we get there, I'm going to hold her hand," Clarke said firmly. "I didn't do it when I should have, but I'm going to hold her hand when I get there."

"That's a long time from now, princess. Don't be planning your death march yet." Bellamy reached over to pluck her hand off her thigh. He tangled their fingers together. "We're going to be fine. We'll leave the dead to rest and we'll make it to the sea. Now go to bed, princess."

"You should too, Bellamy. You've probably left a girl anxiously waiting." It was a little taunt, one they both knew wasn't true. Bellamy stopped sleeping around after the slip up with Raven. A couple girls tried to catch his attention, tried to slip into his tent, be he always sent them away- more harsh with the persistent ones.

When Clarke caught him shoving Tabby through his tent one night, he'd just growled, "I need my fucking sleep. I'm on guard in three hours."

He hadn't slept with anyone since then, choosing to find new ways of relieving stress- like helping Clarke strip herbs in the drop ship, a task they both hated and pretended to hate doing together, but found solace in.

"Come on, Bell," Clarke said softly, standing up and using their intertwined hands to tug him up as well. "We've got a long walk in the morning."

_ They'd never made it to morning. But Clarke was going to fucking make it. She stood in the med bay of the Mountain with blood dripping down her arm and she smiled airily at the girl helping her. She said, "I'm so sorry. I'm usually so careful with these things. I don't know what happened." _

_ "It's okay. You've all experienced a trauma. It's okay now." _

_ Clarke nodded at her again and, as soon as the woman left, she examined the stitched in her arm. They were mediocre at best, but they would hold while she did what she had to do. She just didn't know that doing what she had to do would mean hiding in a cage with Anya. When they fell atop the bodies of the grounders, Clarke thought to herself, "The dead go to the West Coast." _

_ It was the only way she could face untangling herself from the mess of limp limbs and broken bodies. It was the only way she could drag Anya with her. It was the only way she could get through the Reavers cave, and, when she was standing atop the waterfall, looking down at the water crashing below her, hating Anya for jumping and not letting her find another way out, she knew that, if Bellamy and Finn and Raven were dead, if her people were going to die, she'd see them on the West Coast. _

_ So the only thought in her head when she hit the water was, "Wells, if you've hit Bellamy before I get there, I'm going to be so mad at you." _


	5. Chapter 5

"Fuck, maybe I can get the princess to sleep with me next. Finn's girlfriend is back and she's holding out on Bellamy. Maybe I can get her on her knees and…"

"What was that, Rogers?" Bellamy's voice cut through whatever the boy on the wall had to say next, and the kid tensed up immediately, unsure of what was going to happen to him with Bellamy that close. He turned around slowly and swallowed heavily. His friend looked like he was going to shit his pants and Bellamy stared down at them with his mouth set in a grim line.

"N-nothing, Bellamy. We were just talking about…."

"About Clarke," Bellamy filled in. "About the person who's saved your ass more times than anybody in this camp. Jones, what happened last week when you got a damn spear through your shoulder because you fell into Miller?"

The boy who hadn't been speaking said slowly, "Clarke stitched me up."

"Yeah, Clarke stitched you up. Rogers, what happens when you fall off this wall and crack your idiot head open? Who do you get taken to?"

"Clarke," he mumbled, and Bellamy was on him in seconds, grabbing the front of his shirt and shoving him over to the edge of the wall. He couldn't even explain what he was doing in that instant. If anybody had asked him, he wouldn't have had a logical explanation. He just knew that, since Clarke had saved his life, he couldn't listen to people bad mouth her anymore. She wasn't some damn princess in a golden tower. She was here, in the dirt and the mud and the blood with the rest of them. She had more blood staining her hands than anyone else in the camp, both good and bad, and he'd go to hell and back to make sure that people respected that about her.

He held the boy so his toes scraped the edge of the wall and the rest of him was held up only by Bellamy. So that the only thing saving him was Bellamy's fingers curled into his shirt, and the sudden death grip Rogers had taken on Bellamy's arms. Bellamy snarled, "That's right. Clarke. So, if I drop you right now, and they drag your worthless ass into that drop ship to ask her if she can save you, are you going to talk to her like that? Are you going to ask her if she'll…"

Bellamy saw red and he had to shake his head to clear it, ignoring the boy behind him who was pounding on his back and the crowd of people who were gathered in front of the wall, watching their leader threaten to drop a boy to his death. Jasper broke away from the crowd, racing towards the drop ship. Rogers cried out, "No! I'm sorry. Bellamy, I'm sorry. We were just joking around. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear."

"Careful with your joking around or…"

Bellamy's low growl was cut off by the princess herself. Her voice carried across the crowd. "Bellamy Blake, what do you think you are doing?"

He jerked his eyes up to where she was storming through the crowd, Jasper following after her to make sure nobody smacked her for shoving them aside. Rogers shook in his hands, knowing that it would either get way better or way worse when Clarke arrived. She climbed the wall quickly, and stood in front of them with her hands on her hips, demanded, "What do you think you're doing, Bellamy?"

"Teaching him how to respect women," Bellamy snarled back.

"And you think that dangling him over the edge of the wall is going to do that?"

She rolled her bright blue eyes and Bellamy yanked Rogers up over the wall with a "Stay right there" hissed at him before he turned to the princess. His voice took on the usual tone when he was arguing with her. "Stay out of this one, princess. You don't know what you're getting into."

"I'm getting in the way of you trying to toss a kid over the wall, you asshole. Now why were you trying to toss a kid over the wall? Because Jasper came and got me and was certain that you were going to kill this boy." Bellamy glared over her shoulder and Jasper had the sense to look ashamed for running to mom the second he got scared. "What good reason do you have for trying to give me more work?"

"Look, he was talking bad about…"

"Bellamy, you can't just freak out every time somebody says something bad about Octavia!" Clarke cut him off. "God knows the poor girl doesn't deserve it but sometimes you have to let her fight her own battles. You know she can break this boy's arm just as easily as you can! Why do you have to prove that you're her big brother every time something happens?"

"Princess, it…"

"Look, we'll just bring Octavia over here and let her punch him in the mouth one time. Only once, do you understand? But Octavia has to learn to settle her own battles and…"

"Princess!"

"Bellamy, don't defend it. It's ridiculous that you're always doing this and…"

"He wasn't talking about Octavia; he was talking about you!" Bellamy's irritated shout traveled across the camp and everybody fell silent, even Clarke. Her mouth forming a rounded O as she stared past him at the boy. He regretted it, instantly. He didn't like the way her eyes watered just a little, or the way her hands shook. The way she was pushed to the outside again, the way she was pushed to the outside every time. All because of the fucking nickname Spacewalker gave her that he just had to stick to. All because of fucking Spacewalker's idiot actions.

"Clarke," it was quiet. It was just for the two of them. He reached out to grab her elbow and she yanked it away from him quickly.

"You can't attack kids just because they can't keep their mouths shut," she sighed, almost choking around the tears. "But thank you."

"Clarke, wait…"

She'd turned and started walking away already, the whole crowd watching her instead of him, so he threw caution to the wind. He turned and punched Rogers as hard as he could in the mouth and, when the boy stumbled back, Bellamy didn't even recognize his own voice when he sneered, "If I ever hear you talking bad about any woman in this camp again, I will take you to the Grounder camp myself."

He turned to the crowd and announced, "That goes for everybody. You will learn to respect the women in this camp. We are not savages, god damn it!"

He stormed off the wall and, by the time he made it to the drop ship where he knew Clarke would be, she had already wiped away any tears and was organizing medical supplies. He stopped in the doorway and said, "I think I dislocated my thumb."

She hiccupped around a laugh and he pretended not to notice how red her eyes were when she turned to motion towards the table so she could look at his hand. She was silent for a while, just poking at the tender flesh, before she said, "You don't have to do things like that, Bellamy. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, princess. But I can't have people walking around thinking that my co-leader is easy to get into bed. Then I'll have to take on the responsible role and I just don't think I can handle that expectation," he teased lightly, earning a smile from Clarke that felt hard won.

They fell silent again while she moved and adjusted his hand and, when she told him he was fine and not to be a baby about it, he jumped down off the table and started for the door, but she stopped him by calling out his name softly. He turned to look at her and she said, "Thank you."

_ He'd never hesitated to protect the princess. Even that first week, when he was sure that her walking straight off a cliff was the best idea in the entire world, he'd pulled her up out of that Grounder trap and he'd saved her. It was a reflex. He could have let her fall down into it and then the princess would be gone and the Ark would have never came down. It wasn't true, but he'd thought it all the time back then. And he'd still saved her. Every time she needed saving, he'd gone down in the trenches and pulled her out. But this time, he didn't know if she was down in that trench. He didn't know if he'd walk all the way there and find out that she was gone. But he did know that there was a scared girl clinging to the side of a cliff, for god knows how long, and she needed somebody to save her right then. _

_ "It's what Clarke would want." It was his mantra as he tied those seatbelts around himself, knowing that Murphy or Finn could change their minds and drop him to his death at any second, just because he was holding them back. When that girl wrapped her arms around his neck, he could almost pretend that it was one of his people he was saving, instead of a stranger whose name made no sense on his lips. He could almost pretend that he'd made it to the drop ship on time. _


	6. Chapter 6

Her back ached but there were herbs to be gathered, poultices to be made, and wounds to be wrapped. There were always more injuries, always more kids to be taken care of, and always the threat of death. She sighed and yanked hard at what looked like a weed, but apparently broke fevers. The Grounder's journal was the best thing Bellamy had ever fought over and, even though she had to share it with Octavia without Bellamy knowing about it, it was worth sneaking into the girl's tent at dawn every morning to get it back.

She made sure to salvage the root of the plant she'd been pulling on, because the root was circled and the leaves had an X drawn next to them. She was stuffing it in the bag when she heard the twig snap behind her. She looked up and found Monroe standing with her gun at her side. The sound had come from the direction of camp, but that didn't mean it wasn't a Grounder. Clarke clenched the knife she was using tighter in her hand and pretended to be focusing on the plant in front of her. There was a rustle just a little closer and she forced her shoulders and back to relax like she had no idea what was happening. She considered calling out for Monroe, but she knew she'd have a knife through her throat before Monroe could get her gun up.

The rustling got closer and Clarke prepared herself. She counted to ten slowly and calmly, then pushed herself up, leaping to her feet and slashing out with the knife. Bellamy leaned back just as the knife arced past his chest. He smirked down at her while she realized what happened. Her eyes widened and she gasped. One dirt stained hand rose to cover her mouth. Bellamy teased, "Missed me, princess."

"Oh my god, Bellamy! I could have killed you."

"You think so, princess." He looked over her head and called out, "Monroe!"

Monroe spun around and the color drained from her face when she saw Bellamy. He ordered, "Back to camp, now. I could have killed the princess and you would never have realized it. You're on latrine duty for a week."

"Bellamy…" he froze her argument with a steely glare, his mouth settling into a hard cut across his face. Monroe looked away and marched towards the camp, her head hanging low.

"You didn't have to…"

"Oh no, princess," Bellamy cut her off. "Don't think you're getting away. You could have been killed."

"You're not a Grounder, Bellamy," she sighed. "I wasn't in danger."

She folded her knife back into her boot and turned to pick up her bag, but Bellamy grabbed her wrist to yank her back to face him. He lectured, "You didn't know it was me sneaking up on you. You thought you were really in danger, and, for all you knew, I would have killed you. You have a shitty defense system, princess."

"I almost got you!" she argued.

"You almost stabbed me in the bicep. That wouldn't kill me, and it definitely wouldn't stop me from killing you. You need help. What happens when nobody's around and you have to defend yourself?"

"Are you planning to disappear, Bellamy Blake?" Clarke demanded, only half kidding.

"I'm not going anywhere, but that doesn't mean you don't need to learn how to defend yourself. I can't always be watching your back, princess. You made me learn how to sew up my leg without getting an infection. You can learn to fight."

"Fine. But you're going to learn how to break a fever," she grumbled.

That was how she found herself on her back in the middle of camp with Bellamy straddling her chest, a knife to her throat. He warned, "you're over extending when you punch and you're letting yourself get put in too many headlocks."

"I'm not letting anything," she mumbled unhappily.

He tucked his knife away and climbed off of her, pulling her up with him. He ordered, "Go again, princess."

Bellamy wasn't a patient, easy teacher. He showed her a series of moves in the first fifteen minutes, walking her through them and letting her practice a few times before he ordered, 'Time to use them, princess."

He softened his blows, but just barely. Every time he hit, the wind escaped her for a second. She was quick, he was quicker. Her reach was half the length of his and, despite his command to 'get in close,' she preferred to try to dodge his hits. He would cuss, "Damn it, princess, you're not fast enough to dodge. You need to come here."

She ignored him until finally he shouted, "If you're not going to listen what I have to say, then I'm not going to give you a choice!"

He threw his hands up in the air and stomped off towards the drop ship, leaving Clarke to watch his back tense and untense as he tried to get hold of his breathing. He disappeared through the drop ship and she was certain that she was done for the day. She walked over to the water barrel to get a drink, and was startled when she heard his voice from behind her again, "Oh, you're definitely not done, princess!"

She turned to see Bellamy stomping towards her with a length of rope dangling from his arm. She asked, "What are you doing, Bellamy?"

"You don't want to stay where I tell you to, I'm taking away your ability to be ridiculous," he said through gritted teeth. He reached her and looped the rope around her waist before she could think about it.

"Bellamy, what the hell are you doing?" Her shout brought the attention of the camp to the two of them as Bellamy smacked her hand away and secured the knot. The camp had seen them fighting for days. At first, there were rumors that Bellamy was finally going to kill the princess. But they faded quickly when Bellamy didn't cut her throat the first time.

"You don't want to listen to what I have to say, princess," Bellamy growled, yanking on the rope so it pulled her tighter to him. When he was satisfied that she was close enough, he tied it around his waist, allowing it enough give so that she could move comfortably in circles around him if she needed without the rope stopping her movement too much. "I'm going to make you listen. You're not going to die just because you're so fucking stubborn."

"Bellamy, this is ridiculous," Clarke argued.

"No, what is ridiculous is that you're fighting me on this. If you don't learn how to defend yourself, you will die, princess. If you die, we all die. So you want to dig your own grave, you better dig graves for the rest of us as well, do you understand me?" He yanked hard on the rope that was secured around their waists, pulling her even closer so that his angry dark eyes were completely focused on her.

"Yeah, yeah I get it," she said quickly. "What do I do now?"

"Stay close and hit me," he snarled. "I'm not taking it easy on you anymore, princess. It's not doing anything for you. So come on. Hit me."

And she did. Every time she tried to step away from his arms, he would grab the rope at their waists and yank hard, dragging her forward so she didn't have a choice in the matter. She would stumble for just a second and then she would focus on him, ducking beneath his arms and getting in close to his body so she could dance around him. She was much quicker when she was close to his body, and, after an hour, she rammed him hard with her shoulder to his rib cage, knocking him onto the ground, but dragging her with him as she forgot the rope tied around their waist. They lay in the dirt next to each other, their legs tangled but their torsos separate.

Bellamy finally informed her, "This is not the end of you learning to fight, but good job, princess."

"Holy shit, I think Bellamy Blake just complimented me," Clarke chuckled. "Is anybody around to hear it or is everybody going to think I imagined it?"

"Nobody will ever believe you, princess."

She punched him in the rib cage, and he kicked her in the thigh.

_Stay close. Bellamy always said to stay close to your opponent and hit them in the soft spots if you needed to take them down quickly. Clarke didn't have time to think of much else when she drove the dart into Anya's throat. It came again when she was fighting with Anya, keeping her defense up and trying to remember to breathe through the pain. Bellamy had stopped taking it easy on her eventually, even though he winced every time he hit her in the ribs. It was good for her, because Anya woke up like a roaring bear. _

_ Bellamy had never hit her as hard as Anya did, leaving marks and bruises down her body, but she didn't care. She knew her people were still alive. There had been a message on the drop ship. They'd left her a message, she'd just been a little too late to see it, but she was going to find her damn people. She knew Bellamy and Finn and Raven and Octavia were alive and they were going to storm fucking Mount Weather, with or without Anya._

_ Anya's respectful statement was too close to Bellamy's for Clarke to think about just then, but it didn't matter anyway, because the floating balloon showed her what she needed to know. Her people were alive. It was weird how that went from being a blessing to being a curse when she was trying to keep Anya pinned to the earth. _


	7. Chapter 7

Octavia grew up without being able to play with the other kids, and, when Bellamy got older, he tried to be all of the other kids that he played with before she was born. Sometimes, he would stay in all day, pretending to be another kid from Walden so she would have a different kind of playmate. Even though he was twelve and bored and he resented Aurora for sticking him with a little kid when he was one himself, he loved Octavia dearly, and he'd stay inside all day being Rick or James or Connor or Stone. Octavia loved it, and she would hug him at the end of every day before she would say, "Alright, Bellamy. Be you again. I wanna see Bellamy."

And, just like that, whatever character Bellamy had taken on that day would melt away, and he'd be standing there in front of Octavia so she could wrap her arms around his waist and give him a big hug. It always made Aurora grin, and Aurora was beautiful when she grinned. Not when she smiled like she did at the guards on the Ark, but when she truly grinned, her mouth splitting her face wide and her eyes matching. She would always ruffle his hair and say, "See, this is what the rest of the Ark is missing. This is what they don't understand. You need each other. We need our family."

And he did. As he got older, the stories he told Octavia turned from the kids he used to play with, to the ones he would see from a distance. It was easier not to get close to people. The closer people got, the more they wanted to see. He told her stories of the people he watched, and, by the time she was nine, she'd hugged everybody he'd ever seen in her mind. Outside of their tiny apartment, Bellamy avoided contact with the rest of the world. By the time he was fifteen, girls found him intriguing. They cooed at his freckles and purred about how he was so deep. How they could help him. How he could trust them. He never did care. He laughed at how deep they thought he was, but it helped. With those girls, sneaking away to their apartments, it was easy to get the things he wanted for Octavia.

It was easy to pick up a bow, or a skirt in the market and claim it was for some girl he was seeing. All of the girls assumed it was for some other girl, and there were even rumors that he was sleeping with some of the girls on the Pheonix station. It was better for them to think that. It helped him ignore that he was turning into Aurora. Trading himself for secrets and Octavia, just as she had his whole life. Just like he pretended not to notice that she did. By the time he was a guard, it was second nature to steal and lie and pretend that he was a good person. That he wasn't slowly turning into the troll under the bridge in the goat story they used to tell him in nursery school. But sometimes, when he laid awake at night listening to Octavia whimper in her sleep, he wondered if the troll under the bridge maybe hadn't been protecting something. Maybe the troll had a secret that nobody else could know. Maybe the troll needed those goats and if they couldn't understand that, that was just too damn bad.

But when Aurora was floated and Octavia was taken, that was it for Bellamy. The closest he'd ever come to a hug outside of his family was the girls he took back to their apartment buildings. After they were gone, he didn't even take those girls anywhere. The interest in him didn't fade. In fact, it seemed to build into a morbid wave. They wanted to know what made him tick. They wanted to see the apartment where the girl lived under the stairs. They wanted to see all of him, bared for them. And he shut it all down. He became the hermit of Walden, until he was able to see Octavia again, and his life bloomed back into color. For the first time, he could touch again. Even if he never let them touch him back.

_ Bellamy Blake could count on one hand the number of people who had hugged him in his life. He didn't even have to use his thumb. 1. Aurora Blake-the errant mother herself. 2. Octavia Blake- his pride and joy and the only light in his life. 3. Jasper Jordan- when he saved the fucking idiot's life from Murphy. He could count on two fingers the number of people he'd ever hugged back. 1. Aurora Blake- but it stopped after Octavia was born because the new baby needed to be cuddled and held and loved so that she wouldn't cry. 2. Octavia Blake- because he owed her the world and if she wanted to be hugged, he'd never deny her. _

_ But then he got hit by a tornado- except he didn't know tornadoes came in the form of pure light and sunshine. One second he was watching that girl- Mel- walk away and telling everybody once again that lives were lost. The next second, he was actually knocked backwards a step as a very solid, very warm body hit his. It wasn't a tackle. Tackles were aimed low and guided with the shoulder. He wouldn't have felt it from his shoulders to his thighs, where hers were pressed to his. He wouldn't have felt the sudden dragging weight on his body. But he did, and then the blonde strands floating around him and the smell of blood and mud and sweat made sense and he learned how to hug a new person that day because the only thing he could do was throw his arms around his co-leader and lift her up off the ground. _

_ If it was some stupid movie from the old days, he would pick her up and spin her around. He would laugh and whoop and holler. But they weren't in the old days, and they definitely weren't traditional. So he just held onto her tight enough to break her, because he'd already been broken a thousand times and she was the only thing that could put him back together. He had Octavia, he found the Ark ship, and now he had Clarke, and their people. But then she pulled away to hug Octavia, and her grin was so bright he was blinded for a second, he forgot to ask her the most important question until she'd pulled away from his sister and was staring at him again. "The others?" _

_ Her answer froze the blood in his veins. But he didn't fall apart. Because he had his warrior sister, and his warrior princess, and the rest of the world would fall into place as it needed to. _


	8. Chapter 8

On the Ark, having a mother on the council, a father as the head engineer, and always being in the med bay meant that people thought they had the right to touch you. The older people on the Ark were always tugging on her braids as they walked past, or clapping her on the shoulder. They laughed, "You'll be so pretty you'll be beating the boys back with a stick when you get older" despite the fact that there hadn't been any sticks on the Ark since the Ark was launched. Kids in the hospital constantly wrapped their arms around her in appreciation, and one too many times, men who thought she was cute would attempt to drape themselves around her.

Her parents, the Jahas, the members of the council. They were all free with hugs and touches. She knew her entire life that everybody who crossed her path loved her in some little, stupid way, and a part of her hated that. They didn't know her well enough to love her. They didn't know anything about her other than the fact that she was a council member's daughter and she couldn't hit them for touching her, because a very real part of her hated the touches and the smiles and the fakeness of everything. A very real part of her was almost glad when they put her in the cell after her father died, because she wouldn't have to deal with any of them hugging her and telling her how sorry they were when they didn't give a shit about the sacrifice her father made for them.

The ground was even more freeing. Nobody wanted to touch her except Finn. She could pick who she came into contact with, and the touches meant more on the ground. It was up to her to hug Jasper when he woke up and was able to leave the dropship for the first time. She was able to throw her arms around him and squeeze him tight enough to comfort, but not tight enough to hurt him, and it was her choice.

When she fell into Finn's arms, it was her choice. When she held Monroe's hand after taking care of a cut on her shoulder, it was her choice. She was allowed to make her own choices on the earth and nobody could tell her that she was being rude or that she needed to be more proper. The earth was freeing, and a part of Bellamy's 'whatever the hell we want' always echoed in her mind when she turned away from a hug, or grasped her co-leaders hand when he was helping her up out of the dirt. She never did do whatever the hell she wanted, if she had, nobody would have ever accused Clarke Griffin of not being fun. But she had relished the freedom.

Until there wasn't freedom anymore and there was only white walls and the secrets that were embedded in every face that didn't belong to her people. Then there was the camp and it seemed like so many people were touching her, and then there was her mom, crying, and she had all the freedom in the world to hug her, so she did, but it wasn't what she needed and there was no pretending that everything was perfect anymore. Until she heard his name.

_ He didn't know how to hug. That was the thought that hit her after the mantra, 'He's alive, he's alive, he's alive.' Nothing in the world felt better than that moment. With her arms wrapped around him, even before he caught onto what she was doing and tightened his hold on her, Clarke felt like her world had fallen back into place. It had been knocked out of orbit, but, when she came into contact with him, everything was alright again. They could fix everything together. _

_ He stunk and he was covered with blood and sweat and god knew what else, but she pulled at the sleeve of his shirt and pressed her mouth into his shoulder while he pressed the side of his face into her hair. He lifted her until her feet weren't on the ground and she promised whatever God there was that she would give up the freedom of choosing who could touch her if she could touch Bellamy Blake every day for the rest of her life. She could teach him how to hug. _

_ He rocked back and forth on his heels and Clarke wasn't sure if it was because he was just swaying or because the force of her body hitting his was still affecting him. She didn't care. His breath was hot in her ear and she was sure that her breath on his shoulder was baking his skin. But she was breathing promises and greetings into it and she knew he was doing the same for her. They had each other back and, even after a time apart, the co-leader were an extension of one another. They were all each other needed to go and get their people back. _


End file.
